


under control

by verity



Series: tween wolf [16]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Friendship, Gen, Pizza
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-23
Updated: 2013-04-23
Packaged: 2017-12-09 07:56:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 841
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/771867
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/verity/pseuds/verity
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Scott swallows his mouthful of breadstick. "You need us to help."</p><p>Allison used to duck her head, look at her feet; she was shy. Now she meets their eyes without flinching. Her mouth is shiny with grease. "I know that's—a lot. I just need somewhere to stay. For a little while."</p>
            </blockquote>





	under control

Inside, Stiles puts the pizza down on the dining room table, lets Scott grab the roll of paper towels and scarred plastic cups from the kitchen. Scott deals them out: a promotional TMNT tumbler from Burger King to Allison, one for supporting KDHX 88.1 to Stiles, keeping Buzz Lightyear circa Toy Story 2 for himself. Allison hovers at the edge of the table, one hand resting on the surface, the other loose at her side.

"Come on, sit down," Stiles says. He tries not to stare.

The last time they saw Allison was—years ago. She used to Skype with them, but now it's all scattered emails and IM conversations. There's a postcard from San Francisco on the refrigerator: that's the closest she's ever come to Beacon Hills since her family left, as far as Stiles knows. Except she's here, now, older and—they're all older.

Scott pulls out the chair next to him, slaps a few paper towels down on the placemat. "I'll take your pepperoni. Unless—do you like it now?"

"No," Allison says. She pulls a slice out of the box before she sits down, dabs at the pooled grease on the top. "I—you remember that, huh?"

"I remember everything," Scott says.

—

When Allison reaches for another paper towel, she moves from the waist; even eating pizza off a paper towel, she doesn't slouch, just scoots her chair in closer to the table. Her hair is short and jagged around her ears, her body long lines and sharp corners. Stiles's growth spurt took him by surprise last summer, left him fumbling and tripping over his own limbs, but Allison's motions are all graceful. Efficient.

"I ran away from home," she says, looking from Scott to Stiles. "I don't want to—but you guys are kind of, I don't really have any other friends."

"Home?" Scott says.

Allison pauses. "Well. Sort of. The—the other stuff."

"So, you ran away from the werewolf police?" Stiles asks. Allison's never told them that much about it, but after she left at the end of sixth grade her parents started homeschooling her, which seemed to be more weapons, less _To Kill a Mockingbird_. Most of what Stiles knows about hunters came from Laura during Kate Argent's trial; Laura made them sound like some combination of the guys on _Supernatural_ and the people who used to drown witches.

"Yeah," Allison says, "I guess you could say that."

Scott swallows his mouthful of breadstick. "You need us to help."

Allison used to duck her head, look at her feet; she was shy. Now she meets their eyes without flinching. Her mouth is shiny with grease. "I know that's—a lot. I just need somewhere to stay. For a little while."

—

"Lydia," Stiles says, sitting on the edge of his bed. Dad's pulling a double overnight, so that's taken care of, but there's no way they could pull it off for more than a day or two. So Scott's leaning against the doorjamb and scrolling through the contacts list on his phone while Allison unrolls her sleeping bag on the floor. "Seriously, Jackson owes you like nine thousand favors, and also you took her to homecoming last year, she owes you, she _definitely_ owes you."

Scott glances up. "That wasn't a favor."

"It is now," Stiles says.

Scott and Jackson are co-captains of the lacrosse team, so Lydia always ropes Scott into being her arm candy whenever she and Jackson are off. She and Scott are friends, sort of; they eat lunch at the same table, and Scott keeps her and Stiles from killing each other whenever Stiles sits with them. Lydia's the perfect person to play hostess while Allison's on the run. Her house has at least three spare rooms, her mom's never home, and—well, her sister's part of Laura's pack, but it's not like Laura or Derek are ever _there_.

"Who's Lydia?" Allison says.

"Lydia Martin, strawberry blonde goddess, went to middle school with us?" Stiles says. "She aced all the tests in our science class. She dissected a nurse shark for extra credit."

Allison flinches. "I remember _that_."

Scott sighs. "Okay, I'll call her. Just—" He waves at Stiles. "I'll be right back."

Under the window, Allison's made a nest for herself, stealing one of Stiles's pillows and slipping into her sleeping back even though she's still in her jeans. "Do you mind if I take a nap?" she says. "I'm sorry, I'm really tired."

"Sure," Stiles says. "I'll just—I'll be right here, okay? If you need anything."

—

Stiles lets Allison sleep, even when it's clear that she's moving well beyond nap territory into true slumber, slapping the alarm on her phone until it silences. Around 10, Scott has to head out so he can pick up his mom from second shift at the hospital, but he's reluctant to go. "Call me if—"

"Yeah, yeah, I know." Stiles slaps Scott in the shoulder. "I've got it under control."

—

He's loading the dishwasher when he has the panic attack.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm [ladyofthelog](http://ladyofthelog.tumblr.com) on tumblr.


End file.
